Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Poetry Challenge

Here is the challenge for this post. Write an image poem that is based on something you have in your garage. Make sure the poem is less than 7 lines and includes a metaphor. The best submitted poem will get 10 extra credit points for the poetry workshop.

34 comments:

Megg t said...

Bicycle

Head held high for everyone to see

Faster than a pair of legs, yet slower than
the metallic monster.

Big wheels turning, a servent to a king

Shiny as the light reflecting of a summer lake

Until the rust sets in, and the luster goes away

And it is put away

Until next spring

LeBron said...

The Scene

Yellow Tape stretched to a circle

Tears of many fall as crystals

on the cold winter night

just spatters of blood remain

JBruce said...

Broom

Sweeping the vicinities clear
the broom.

Like a herding dog clearing sheep,
only with dirt.

When filth builds up into a mountain
and somebody walks into it,
they would like nothing more
than a broom.

(This was originally 7 lines, but due to the lack of room in the blog box, it appears to be 8 lines.)

DanaKuhringel said...

Kayak

Yellow, racing yellow,
no longer racing.

Hung up on the wall
Wrong side up as can be.

awaiting the sun
to race once again.

(I'm not sure why our kayak is hanging upside down in our garage...:/ but it is...)

Kathleen said...

Tricycle

years and years of so much fun,
blown away.

was once a huge deal,
now just old memories.

if the little red piece of metal with small white wheels had a heart,
right now it would be shattered.

DanaKuhringel said...

Hmmmm I forgot a metaphor! Scratch that!
Kayak

yellow, racing yellow
a bird ready for flight

hung up on the wall
wrong side up as can be

awaiting the sun
to race once again.

I'm Joe King said...

Sled

a hard blue plastic sled

sits in my dusty garage

discarded in an unseen corner covered by shadows

it's view obstructed by the clutter scattered

in my garage

which is a result of an earthquake

but it still waits for winter to come again

Annie said...

Leaf blower

every autum you arrive
and happily do the job of sprusing up the lawn
blowing every leaf away
using your lungs filled with gasoline
roaring and huffing but finnishing stronge
no leaves in sight
and you go back to your home in my garage
recieve no reward, just a great looking lawn

Rachel said...

Car

Smooth and flawless

it resides in silence,

waiting for the key

that unleashes the wild

great iron steed.

SHorvath said...

The contest is over as of 10:00 PM Sunday.

umasslax19 said...

Garbage cans

Red and blue

Always filled

Always smells of rotten god knows what

Always waiting a vacant obsever of daily life

It is the garbage can

DanaKuhringel said...

i vote for rachel

Julia said...

i guess this contest is over but i thought i would give the image poem a try.

Wagon

Years ago it was a carriage
fit for a prince and princess

Last summer it was a space ship
to help us reach the stars

On sunday it was a horse
with wheels galloping over rocks

And tomorrow I'll find my wagon again.

tbuckley said...

i agree with julia, im going to try it.

The Harley

Cobalt blue, roaring intimidation
when the screaming eagle rumbles.

waiting like his nobel steed
obeying his every order.

it warns with danger,
yet when ridden, its a relaxer.

Julia said...

i really like your poem tatum! the second stanza i think really gives me an image. I picture it as a horse but then the comparison of the harley is great! I love the first line but after when you say.. "when the screaming eagle rumbles" what exactly do you mean by screaming eagle? just wondering.

Kitty said...

Too late for extra credit, here's my poem:
Frisbee

I was your personal airplane,

I was your copilot

All you needed was me and you could think up a world that made me believe I'd seen it all

Fetch with your new puppy wasn't too much fun, sharp teeth poking holes in my plastic, but I was willing to do that for you.

Then, when you turned thirteen, and you wanted to see how far you could throw, I got trapped in the tall oak that used to be our hanger.

You left me there for who knows how long.

The wind ripped me from that tree, and I sailed back to the garage, thought you'd be thrilled to see me,

But by the time I got home, you'd turned fifteen, no need for a toy as useless as me,

Now I sit in the garage, dust and cobwebs matted around me, suffocation much more humane than what you've done to me.

You've grown up.

Kitty said...

and too long...oh well.

mrs.edwardcullen said...

Too late but oh well!

Sunglasses

Protector of eyes against the summer blaze,
Full of dust,
A forgotten warrior,
Now hidden
Cracked,
Scratched,
Under an unsturdy wooden shelf,
Useless.

mrs.edwardcullen said...

One line too long darn... haha

Slamdunker said...

The plaid hammock with the steel bones
Hangs high above the cracked stone,
When our flourishing home drifts closest to the blaze,
We take it down for long sandy days.
It's limbs scratched by rolling stones,
Yet still used by the ones who own.

t buckley said...

thanks julia! and i guess thats what the engine is called.

umasslax19 said...

mr. horvath can you please post the winner of the contest. I knwo i won but it would be nice to see it in print

Jewlz said...

ok, I know this might be a little late, but here goes:

In th corner, rusted tools lay unused.
Worn out
broken.
In the middle, two brand new cars sit
streaked with dirt and grit.
The sleds and snow boots scattered around,
the bikes leaning against each other.
The batketballs hanging on the wall
of this emporium of fun.

Thanks!

ian said...

this is kinda late but here goes nothin.....

skateboard

leaned in the corner,

blue, red black and gold,

freedom under feet

passage to fun

time occupying

ever chalenging

until you hit the ground.

SHorvath said...

Keep forgetting to post the winner. Congrats I'm Joe King for your poem "Sled". Really like the visuals in that one!!!

Mdancer xo said...

Little late but ill try anything once..

Shovel

It scoops out the unwanted
and puts in what is needed.
It's a giant hand
and picks up what it can.

BowenS said...

Bucket

It holds all of your tools,

Or sits and be unused.

It can help you carry a heavy load,

Or dump itself on the floor.

sarahmccauley said...

Lawnmower

A killer by fate,

Not a choice of its own.

Like a small lifeless puppet,

Controlled by the fingers of a different soul.

C.J.Massar said...

The Glove

ripped
torn
from thousands of hours of use
fingers visible
stitching gone
what is considered garbage
is truely a tropey waiting to be worn

melissaaa said...

jeep

sitting there with dust gently lying upon you,

but yet your bright red color still stands out.

that red color is a bright pink shirt in a black shirted crowd.

sarahmc said...

Shovel

Used by hands of many
Getting rid of waste in the plenty
Does it want to be like a pawn though?
Like a lifeless, thought less pawn?

sarahmcc said...

At Melissaaa, I really like the idea of the jeep standing out. Is the last sentence comparing the red jeep to a standout shirt in a crowd? I really like that metaphor. One thing you could change is instead of using, "you" you could use the word "it" of even "he" or "she."

Kevin G. said...

The car.
Big and powerful
A horse of iron
Sleekly shaped
And when I sit behind the wheel,
I feel the power.

mrs.edwardcullen said...

i kind of like this topic so im going to write another one!

Baseball Glove

Tattered and beaten
From years and years of use.
Bring a smile to a young childs face,
As he cathes his first ball.
Bringing so much joy then,
But what is it now?
Used to take up space in your cluttered garage,
No longer bringing joy,
And now bringing sorrow,
Of the days that used to be.





Wayyyyyyyyyyy too long!